Stumbling
by nooope
Summary: A drabble (will be vinettes, reflections) on a failed relationship
1. Chapter 1

So like most who were tired of living under shadows, he bolted the instance freedom came. Though he would be eternally grateful to Yugi and his gang, it was clear there was nothing he could do for them. He was the awkward reminder of the evils they suffered through for the past years or so, innocent in his own right yet still casting a pall on their outings. For though his eyes were brown and innocent enough, they did bear an unfortunate resemblance to those of the Spirit of the Ring.

In his darker days he resented Yugi for not doing more: how simple was it to knock him out, take his Ring, and destroy it? So what if he died in the process, it would have spared him years of living under evil and the world of evil, as melodramatic as that sounded.

Yes, evil, luckily for him the Ring was the destructive impulses and voices whispering astringent, bittersweet machinations.

So it was only reasonable that birds of a feather should hang together, nevermind if said bird was a few thousand miles away in Egypt. His grades were barely enough to get to some no-name university in Cairo and he made a swift departure after graduation.

And there he was, 3 years later, finishing up a major and going on with a minor and fresh out of a breakup. They both had thought they were over the evils that possessed them, and latching on to each other with a hint of desperation and bravado, whipped up a romance out of thin air.

Frequently he wondered what Marik saw in him. And it turned out, the answer was precisely nothing. He was being thrown out, figuratively, though Marik was the one spending all his time in Ryou's dorm room. The landlord was once again forced to leave the premise, as ridiculous as that was, and by the time he came back Marik was long gone.

And back and gone and back and gone, makeup sex and rejection and Marik's patience worn down fast and Ryou's feelings worn thinner until they both were about as happy as they had been in Domino. Why did they expect this to end well anyways? Neither had any substantial human contact. Marik was obstinate and determined to be in control, Ryou's façade of politeness devolved into clinginess and passive aggressiveness and paranoia.

It really would have served Ryou better to consider these recent events at a time other than his paleontology class. But with ½ the class fast asleep, out cold (under the blissful AC), he supposed he fit right in anyways.


	2. Chapter 2

He was rather hoping to get to his room for a nice nap until the memories started playing.

Like scenes from some old, demented projector, things he didn't even know he remembered played back and merged neatly with the heat waves emanating off the sidewalk. Of his first summer, stuck on campus and rotting in summer school for failing a math class (his worst subject), Marik faithfully waiting near his old dorms because it was "too stuffy" at his house. Of the noisy religious group clogging up the streets with signs and protests (but of course he had to remember Marik's snide, relentless, whispering remarks moreso than anything else). Then came facsimiles of days spent lounging around between classes, not that someone as lazy as Ryou would be arsed to go anywhere. Oh no, he was lazy, so useless that he couldn't even bother arriving on time to hang out, nevermind that Marik lived further and had more classes because only stupid people like Ryou studied such a stupid subject and-

He was stopped by an unfortunate pedestrian, just someone he nearly walked into.

Predictably, the rest of his day went downhill. His place became a goddamned infestation of Marik-related sinkholes. Everything was contaminated, from his room that still smelled of Marik (oh god please don't let it be the bed) to the kitchen where Marik left behind some utensils.

And it wasn't until nearly midnight when he finally figured out that his mind, in a sick attempt to fill in the Marik-shaped gap, started supplying the next best thing. It was almost endearing, in a way, much like how a desperate addicts conjure up substitutes for their drug of choice, and Ryou Bakura sincerely hoped that Marik was going through the same ordeal.


	3. Chapter 3

The urge to run away almost became irresistible. But he could not go anywhere, not when the upcoming tournament featuring one of the hottest iterations of Dueling was only a few days away. That particular combination of machine and cardstock happened to be Marik's favorite and his infectious enthusiasm managed to endear Ryou enough to make it a hobby of sorts. Yes, even after their disastrous foray into the sport.

Fortunately, it was only virtual reality, but Ryou nevertheless managed to drive his motorcycle right into the stands even before his first turn was over. The game did not support blood and gore visuals, but Marik proudly put the death estimate at around 20 or so. He should know, considering he did a similar impromptu visit into the audience, and...

Anyways. Given the extraordinary potential for disasters, it is little wonder that strict security measures will enforced for Cairo University's annual Draconic Motorcycle Dueling Dash.

The point is, he would not let Marik ruin the legendary annual event - it was shaping up to be the most exciting race in years (or so claimed Marik...and the flyers). Unfortunately, they ordered seats right next to each other, but Ryou was not about to back down. Not that he didn't try alternatives, but nobody was particularly interested in seat swapping when the seats in question were among the least desirable (but cheapest) in the stadium.

And as the days drew closer, his ribcage felt strangely constricted. His stomach was sore from either hunger, indigestion, tenseness. He responded by ignoring these sensations, along with the pains in his legs and the perpetual crescents indented into his palms.

But somehow he stumbled his way temporally and spatially onward until he arrived at his assigned seat. By the time he sat down, he was barely able to mumble a coherent 'no thanks' to the vendor selling drinks and "hot dogs" made of something he'd rather not think too much about.

Then he caught the scent of Marik's cologne (some cheap brand that Ryou never liked) and everything went to hell. Hands griping his thighs, staring straight ahead, it was all he could do to stop from glancing at the man next to him. A man cheering for that rider in the gaudy flame-painted motorcycle. A man who didn't even look at him, not once, Ryou was sure of this because he was straining his peripheral vision until his eyes almost teared up.

He noticed belatedly that the stadium was more than half empty and the urge to run was stronger than ever, but he had an essay to write and a pile of dishes to wash and he wasn't about to face these things any faster than he had to.

* * *

Notes: This version of Cairo is no more Egyptian than the Domino City in the Anime is Japanese (well, the English dub of it anyways). Growing up, I had no idea Domino was supposed to be in Japan. The Cairo in this fanfic is more of a 'generic future city'-type place than anything else.

In my defense, it's not as though Yu-Gi-Oh is historically or culturally correct either...


	4. Chapter 4

It was the dreams this time, clinging on even as he rushed through his morning routine. His experiences with the evil within the ring had given him a deep mistrust of dreams and he learned the best way to deal with dreams is to wake up and not think about them. But his dreams conspired with the thousands of Marik-memory-fragments littered around his dorm and refused to leave, and in response he rushed off looking like a panda with smudged mascara.

And in his hurry, of course he would almost sit in the same row as Marik (who on this deity-forsaken day decided to actually come to class for once, except oh why today). It didn't help that everything was in a miserable fog, that he can't even remember what he ate for lunch yesterday. Idly he wondered if he was losing his mind, but fortunately he comprehended some of the words on the blackboard.

All this, stacked with finals and apartment hunting, almost made Ryou wonder if there was some magic left in this world.

Not that anything supernatural would be out to get him. The Millennium Items were the only reserves of magic in his world (and it was them that made the decks come alive, heart of the cards and all that) and they are gone now. The world was a whole lot less magical with their disappearance, and even Dueling lost a lot of its mystique. Pegasus went on to print multiple Blue Eyes White Dragons, sold them in promotional tins, it was the same as the other powerful cards of his time. And why not, the cards hold no power now and the world was not going to end with the introduction of thousands of paper Slifers and so on. Then came other, stronger monsters with new functions, new archetypes to back them up, things like Mecha Phantom Beast Drassosack (it was mostly Marik who kept up with these things). So as far as Ryou is concerned, the magic haunting his previous years had gone and he was supremely grateful. Had Ryou known about the events of DOMA and Atlantis though, that would be another story...

More classes, more milling about on campus as he waited for them. The day eventually ended pretty uneventfully and Ryou made a beeline for his bed, telling himself that 4pm was really not too early for bed.

On the way, one of his suitmates remarked on the extensive bags under his eyes. Ryou thanked him for his concern.


End file.
